Blurred Lines
by CharmedReality
Summary: For Sam the lines between brother, caretaker, friend, confidant and partner had blurred. Partially set at the end of Season 1. One-sided Wincest.


**Blurred Lines**

It started a long time ago, but they weren't aware of it then.

It started when Dean would brush Sam's hair because it otherwise it would tangle and mat.

It started when the older boy would deflect Sam's curiosity and shield him from the dangerous things their father would do when he'd leave them for days at a time.

It started when they moved around too much to make friends with the other kids in the neighborhoods when they even had neighborhoods and not filthy, crime-ridden parking lots and alleys.

It started when their lives grew steadily more complicated and different from the lives of other people until it became a struggle just to remember "normal" let alone relate to it.

It started when Dean arrived at Sam's college home to pull him back into the very life the younger brother had tried so hard to escape.

It started when those lines between brother and caretaker and friend and confidant and partner started to blur until they were unrecognizable.

That's all it really took to change everything. Once one line bled away then the next faded away a little bit easier. And the next. And the next. And the next until the meaning of the word, "brother," had been completely rewritten. It sounded the same rolling off the tongue, but it felt different inside. The word could no longer hold it's meaning. It needed to be something else—something more descriptive.

It needed to be—Dean.

The day when Sam first realized what he was feeling Dean was pressed up against a wall with a demon close enough to touch him. Dean was vulnerable and defenseless, but he was nobody's victim as he held his own against a man that resembled their father in every way except for his yellow eyes. In fact, the demon was their father. Although, more specifically, he was wearing their father.

Dean had recognized the deception first. After all, it seemed unlikely their actual father would be so insightful about his sons. That kind of research and concern went into understanding ghosts and demons and everything else that went bump in the night.

Sam's sore, abused body was pinned to a wall too. His shoes were just barely scrapping the floor beneath him as it felt like a heavy weight was bearing down on him, pushing with just a little more force than he could return.

He tried to train his mind on the colt—the one weapon that could destroy the demon who had killed his mother and his girlfriend and who would very likely kill his father, brother, and himself in just a few moments if he didn't do something.

He knew he had certain abilities even if he didn't understand why. He'd pushed a cabinet away without touching it once, and a gun was much smaller and lighter than that. He could almost feel the weight of it in his hand, but he couldn't seem to translate that into anything real.

Sam couldn't concentrate—not with that thing in the room—in their Dad. And not with him so close to Dean.

That's when Sam heard the words he'd remember for a very long time—the words the yellow-eyed demon said to his brother.

_"You know, you fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is they don't need you. Not like you need them."_

That was the moment Sam realized just how untrue that statement was. A lifetime of seeking independence rang hollow and false in his mind. Every act of defiance toward his father and their lifestyle, everything he did to distance himself, and every moment spent living the life of a law student was a lie.

He'd been trying to protect Dean and himself from the truth of how much he needed his brother and how he relied on him in almost every aspect of his life. But most importantly, how much he wanted Dean in those few remaining parts of his life.

After Jessica's death he'd assumed there was no room in his life for a lover. But the truth was there was always room for Dean.

Of course, if he told his brother that, Dean would just make some kind of crack about jell-o and tell him he was a bitch, but it was the truth. Sam knew it should feel wrong, but it didn't. There was only a blur where that dividing line should have been.

The feelings had started, so the only question left was how it would end.


End file.
